From time to time, I am asked--by people with an alarming lack of tact--why a man like myself, who has demonstrated an affinity for working with children, has none of his own. Other people's children are quite enough, thank you.

Pardon me for finding the glass half full.

Books smell. Musty and rich. The knowledge gained from a computer, it has no texture, no context. It's there and then it's gone. If it's to last, then the getting of knowledge should be tangible, it should be...smelly.

I'd best head to the library. Research beckons.

Tea is soothing. I wish to be tense.

Things involved with a computer fill me with a childlike terror. Now, if it were a nice ogre or some such I'd be more in my element.

To forgive is an act of compassion, Buffy. It's not done because people deserve it. It's done because they need it.